Miles to Go
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are, I think I know,
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake,
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-- Robert Frost
A Dust of Snow

The way a crow shook down on me
The dust of snow from a hemlock tree
Has given my heart a change of mood
And saved some part of a day I had rued.

-- Robert Frost
May you find a grove of birch that nestles next to pine,
Where light cascades the snow until the meadows shine.
May you hear a tumbling stream refreshing old-age stones,
And wander through the crunching snow that only nature owns.
A walk in any season's woods where gentle things survive
Can guide your inner paths of thought and sing your heart alive.

-- Author Unknown
The photos on this page are courtesy of
Kepguru;  Flickr Creative Commons and
Michael Flick; SimonJX; dogsbylori;
OttoPhokus; bishib70
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